Five Thousand Miles Gone
by Spicas
Summary: Harvey and Donna accidentally meet in London and spend some time discovering the city and themselves in the meantime. Written for the 2019 Darvey Secret Santa.


_AN: My second and last entry to the Darvey Secret Santa. If anyone thought this was inspired by Before Sunset, you got that right ;) London is one of my favorite places in the whole world so it was a joy to revisit it (even by Google Earth) to write this story. The title was a pain but based on a lyric from the song River by Leon Bridges (I changed 'ten' to 'five' to make it a little closer to the distance between New York and London). The song is beautiful and I think it fits the story well :)_

**Prompt:** Harvey finds out about Donna and Thomas; receives an invite from Zoe to come to London to visit for the holidays; meanwhile, Donna has broken up with Thomas and is treating herself to a theatre trip to London; they meet and... (smut, hotness, happy Darvey)

* * *

**FIVE THOUSAND MILES GONE**

Harvey doesn't travel much.

Not because he doesn't like traveling. He does like it. But growing up his family didn't have the means for long vacations abroad and when he became an adult, work was always in the way. It still is, really. A few days off every year is what he gets and he's been happy with it. He's always liked his work, and he's always worked for his goals. Nowadays, however…

His goal isn't really about work anymore.

Things are different. At work, in his personal life. He's got a mother who's actually there for him now that they've made peace. He's got his name on the wall. He's happy with the partners he has at the firm. He no longer feels the need to look for a pretty woman to spend the night with. One could say he was ready to settle down.

Maybe he is. But it's not that simple.

Giving her a call had been a gamble of sorts. He'd see what she was up to, if there was something else for them. So he made plans — New Year in London didn't sound so bad ten days ago.

It does now. Heathrow is packed at this early hour. The next flight available is at eight pm, which means he'll be flying when the clock hits midnight — somewhere, anyway. He was supposed to be here for five more days, but what's he gonna do when there's nothing in London for him?

He did try, with Zoe. They had dinner last night, talked about how life has been treating them. He thought maybe there was still something there for them. He remembers enjoying his time with her, but at the same time, now that he thinks about it, there was nothing remarkable about it. He let her go as soon as things were over and it hadn't been difficult. Seeing her here, in her hometown, across the table from him, he realized he's not the man he used to be. That man would have tried something, maybe. He thinks she'd have welcomed it, anyway. But he looked at her and he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And thus he decided to go back to New York as soon as possible, and wondered why the hell he booked a week stay in London anyway.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he knows Donna is gonna be away for that exact amount of time with her new boyfriend.

The eight pm flight didn't bother him. He doesn't feel like celebrating anyway.

The only problem is that he's gonna have close to twelve hours without much to do. He's checked in for the flight, with only his carry-on bag with him, so he's debating going somewhere else before he checks in to the gate, only he doesn't know where. There's a lot of white in this airport and a lot of people coming and going and he catches a flash of red that he's getting used to in this country — a lot of gingers in Britain, apparently, but this time he looks closer, because he's heard those steps before and he's seen that hair before and he most certainly has seen the sway of those hips before.

She's about five steps from him when he calls.

"Donna?"

He's incredulous. This is the last place he thought he'd see her. Things between them have been… awkward at best. They've been guarded, distant. She's with Thomas, and he's…

Not with the person he wants to be.

Still, he knew she'd be going away for the holidays — he spent Christmas Day in Boston and he knows she went to Connecticut as per usual. But instead of them usually only taking half a day in New Year's Eve and coming back to work on January 2nd, Donna requested time off and had only worked until the 27th. And so he decided to leave a day early on the thirtieth. It's been slowly driving him insane, even if he's been trying not to think about it.

She spins around and yep, there is Donna in all her glory. Travel glory, anyway. Jeans, a pair of black low heel boots, a heavy coat on an arm, the other hand leading a carry-on bag behind her.

She's visibly surprised to see him too.

"Harvey?" She says, a frown on her face as she takes him in. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm… leaving, actually," he says, unwilling to say anything else. "You?"

"Just got here," Donna says. "I didn't know you'd be traveling."

She used to take care of all his travel planning, back when she was his secretary. That seems like so long ago — has it only been a year, really?

"To tell you the truth, neither did I," Harvey admits. "I tried getting an earlier flight but everything is booked, so I'm leaving at eight tonight."

Donna gives him half a smile. "You're gonna miss the fireworks."

"Or maybe I'll get the better view," he retorts, causing them both to smile.

It gets awkward quickly. It shouldn't be — not when they've known each other for nearly fifteen years. Not when they've spent most of fourteen years seeing each other daily, talking to each other daily. People come and go around them. He imagines she's meeting Thomas in the city one time or another, because she's most definitely alone now. Or maybe he's already outside waiting for her, if he knows his luck for being with her.

_He_, well, he'd have been traveling with her to begin with.

He doesn't let that thought elaborate itself, so he speaks.

"Well, uh, I should let—"

"Do you want to—"

They speak at the same time, which is weird for them. They've always been so in tune with each other, they've always known when to speak and how to say it. Perhaps they've been out of sync for a while, he just didn't notice it. He thought things had been going well, but then…

Kessler got in the picture.

He couldn't do a damn thing, really. He still remembers her words from years ago.

_I have to live my life._

He's not gonna hold her back anymore.

Still, she laughs as they are caught in a web of awkward lines and skipped words. He laughs too, then tells her to speak first.

"I was just gonna ask if you want to have brunch together," Donna says. "I didn't eat much on the plane and you've got some time to kill, apparently."

There's an expectant look on her face. Hope blossoms in his chest, but he tones it down. It's probably nothing. A soft smile settles on his face, though.

"I'm game," he says.

She smiles too.

* * *

Donna ends up convincing him to have brunch at the hotel she'll be staying because she already has a reservation there. He doesn't linger close as she checks in — he hears them say her suite isn't yet available, though, but offer a room for her luggage, which she accepts and takes Harvey's bag as well.

"Please, you're not gonna be carrying this around all day," she rolls her eyes before he can protest, and a bell boy soon comes to take the luggage.

She's staying at The Savoy, and the view is different there. From the dining room they can see River Thames and the busy people outside. He had been staying at Park Lane and things were less busy there, albeit not much. This is gonna be a good spot at midnight though, if her room can see London Eye and the fireworks.

"You chose this hotel?" He asks, because he likes the classical tone and he thinks it's very her. She's always been good at choosing hotels for him, but they've always been more modern, at least in style. It's a change for him, but he likes it.

Donna takes a sip of her mimosa and nods. "Yeah. I was gonna stay near Hyde Park initially but I managed to get reservations here this week."

"The busiest night of the year and you just happened to get a reservation for this location," he notes, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"What? I know a guy," she shrugs, then lets out a laugh. "Fine, Louis got this for me. Don't ask me how."

"I'd rather not know, anyway," Harvey confesses.

Donna leans back on her chair. "So… we didn't really talk since last week. How was Christmas?"

"It was good," Harvey admits. "It was really good."

"I'm sure your mother liked having you around," she says softly.

Harvey smiles. Of course Donna would know.

It was his first Christmas with his mom in almost twenty years. Different, but right. He took it for what it was, and tried not to mind Bobby much. His niece and his nephew apparently love him, and his brother seems to be doing better since the last time they talked — on good grounds with Katie, even. Maybe the divorce won't go on, after all.

"She loved it," he says. "I gotta say, so did I. Hailey and Joshua said I'm their best uncle too."

"You're their only uncle, Harvey," Donna laughs.

"Well, the way they said it made it matter," he shrugs. "How was your Christmas?"

He dreads the question for some reason. Did she take Thomas with her home? Did her parents meet him? Is she gonna be spending holidays with Thomas' family too?

The entire idea makes his throat dry, and not in a good way.

"It was good. Same old," Donna shrugs. "My parents got a new dog. He destroyed a set of Manolo heels you bought me like three years ago."

"Clearly I have to give this dog a real talk," he bristles. "We can replace it."

"I already have, no worries," she brushes it off.

It's not that she ever needed him — she made enough to own a few good pairs as a secretary — but he showered her with presents and gave her free reign of his credit card for so many years that he had become used to seeing something from Prada or Gucci every month. Ever since her promotion, that didn't happen anymore. He's proud of her and what she's been doing, but he misses some details every now and then. The way she says the pair of shoes is replaced makes him think of their current situation. The truth of the matter is that she couldn't replace him because… there was never something to replace.

That's what he gets for keeping her at arm's length.

Still, brunch flows easily. She doesn't ask why he's been in London. He doesn't ask why she's spending the next few days here.

It's an unspoken agreement not to delve too deeply within their reasons to be here.

They have a lot of unspoken agreements, it seems.

It's funny, really. There used to be a time where they could speak of anything, even of each other's personal lives. He never liked any of her boyfriends, especially the ones he had met. He's pretty sure she's tried to like a few of his past girlfriends, but he doubts she ever did; not even Scottie could get past Donna's radar. He guesses that she's always wanted him to be happy, and she knew even before he did who wouldn't be able to do that.

They leave the hotel's restaurant and he's prepared to ask for his bag and say goodbye — bracing himself for hours waiting at an airport knowing she's gonna be with someone else — when Donna beats him to it, asking if he has any plans for the rest of the day.

"I'm planning to sue the airline for not putting me in an earlier flight," he half jokes.

She gives him a stern look.

"I'm pretty sure that's out of your range," she teases him. "Do you want to take a walk or something?"

Harvey frowns.

"Take a walk?"

He's skeptical about it. He doesn't normally _take walks_. New York is filled with parks but he mostly runs in them.

"Harvey, I don't have access to my bedroom here until three and you have like eight hours ahead of you before your flight," Donna says slowly, as if he's a small child who needs further explaining. "We're in London. We might as well see the sights. It's winter and it's not raining or snowing. I'd say we're lucky."

"It's not raining _yet_," he corrects her. "Let's go."

He follows her lead, and they end up crossing the street to the Embankment Gardens. The air is chilly like it usually is during this time of the year, especially so near the river. He closes his coat and throws a glance towards Donna, in her caramel coat. He's so used to seeing her in dresses and heels the height difference unsettles him for a moment. She catches him staring and frowns.

"What?"

The garden isn't so full, despite the many statues and monuments. The trees are all dry and dark. The snow from the early morning is surprisingly holding on and she's a spot of red in a sea of black and white.

"I'm just thinking I like your boots," Harvey answers.

She looks skeptical and lets out a laugh. "My boots?"

"Yeah, I forgot you're like a foot shorter than me," he teases. "It's cute, actually."

Donna gasps. "You're walking on thin ice today, Specter."

She fixes her coat and puts her gloved hands in her pockets. He does the same and looks ahead. There's a statue right beside them as they walk, a few people gathered around it to read the inscription.

"It's Robert Burns," Donna tells him. "You probably don't know much about him."

"I sure do. He was a poet," Harvey replies. "How do you know that's him? There's _no way_ you can read that from here."

"I came here and saw that when I was in college," Donna answers. "Let's go back a little, you know Robert Burns' poetry?"

Harvey shrugs sheepishly. "I read poetry. On occasion."

Donna stops in her tracks.

"You read poetry," she states.

He nods. She's frowning, a little disconcerted.

"You want me to recite any?" He jokingly asks. "I probably don't remember enough for that."

"Well, try me. We have time," there's a twinkle in her eyes as she says it.

Harvey purses his lips. He's not an avid reader — he likes quick readings. Chronicles and, yes, poetry. Something he inherited from his mother and the thought doesn't make him cringe anymore. The truth remains that he grew up in an artistic household, and though his professional life doesn't have a lot of art in it, he can still appreciate it.

"Oh, my Love's like a red, red rose," he starts, only a little uncertain. "That's newly sprung in June; oh, my Love's like the melody that's sweetly played in tune."

Donna is serious as he says it — eyes boring into his as she takes in the words and the fact that he knows this and it's something she didn't know about him before. An older lady passes by them and gives him an encouraging smile. Harvey makes a face and feels a little disconcerted.

"Sorry. I don't remember the rest," he tells Donna.

She smiles, as if breaking from a reverie. "You forgot the Scottish accent."

"Ah, damn," Harvey curses, then speaks louder. "Oh, my Luv's like a red, red rose—"

The accent is overrated, he knows, and terrible, but it makes her laugh out loud and step towards him, a gloved palm pressing against his lips to prevent him from saying any further. He smiles too, especially at the way she laces her arm around his and presses the hand that had been on his face against his bicep.

They have phases, the two of them. The shameless flirting while working at the DA's office, the no touching at all phase that came after the Other Time, the lingering occasional touches in between Jessica leaving and her promotional. Then again no touching while he was with Paula, then back to the lingering touches after her. Since Thomas got in the picture, he thought they were back to the no touching phase. It seems not.

He's fine with it. He'll take what he can get.

They walk slowly. She rubs a palm against his arm every now and then, he assumes it's for warmth. In the back of his mind, he thinks anyone seeing them would assume they're a couple.

In another life, maybe. One that he didn't fuck up so badly.

"So," he starts again, "you came to London during college?"

Donna nods. "It was just for a week. We saw _a lot_ of West End plays. A dream come true."

"I bet it was," Harvey smiles. "What else did you do?"

"It was the nineties so there was a lot of line dancing," she says. "God, those were so terrible."

"I can so see you dancing the _Macarena_," he teases her. "Or slow dancing to Madonna's _Crazy For You_."

"Okay, first of all, both of them are classics," Donna retorts. "And second, you probably did those too."

"Yeah, I probably did," he admits.

"Anyway, we mostly just… saw the sights. Or the sights I had the money for, anyway," she rolls her eyes. "It was a fun week."

"Did a lucky English guy get involved in that fun week?"

He doesn't know why he asks. Their slow stroll is pleasant enough without the thought of any past lovers she may have had.

Donna snickers, though. "No. If you must know, I was hopelessly in love with a classmate who stayed home while I was on the trip."

"Hopelessly in love?" Harvey repeats, arching his eyebrows.

"Well, no. But I was faithful," she tilts her head. "Turns out he wasn't. I felt bad for about one day before realizing that was never love to begin with."

He imagines a younger Donna not spending a second longer than necessary worrying about a guy. He remembers her as when they met — fresh from college, and still with a knowledge beyond her years. He's convinced she would have been able to do anything her heart had set to if she had had the means and the opportunity. Even as a secretary she managed to be the best that there was out there.

"Too bad for him," Harvey comments. "And all the potential English lovers."

"Those definitely missed out. Whatever," she says, shrugging. "I remember eating a lot of chips too. They seem to add potatoes to anything around here. And you know what, I'm not complaining, even if my thighs are."

He shakes his head and laughs out loud. "Your thighs are doing fine."

"And how would _you_ know that?"

Their eyes meet as they keep walking.

"I _notice_," Harvey answers. "We can have some of those chips later."

"Yea, please," she completes. "You came here a few times over the years," she notes after a moment.

"Yeah, for work. To woo clients. You remember," he says. "I never got around doing any touristy stuff, though. I think it's the first I stroll and check out London Eye properly."

"You're kidding," Donna says in disbelief. "You're telling me all these years all you ever saw was the inside of conference rooms and bars and hotel rooms. I don't know why I'm surprised."

"You know the job," he shrugs.

"I do," she tugs at his arm. "But we're gonna change that while you still have some hours here."

* * *

Next thing he knows, they're boarding a ferry boat. Donna leads them to the closed section of the boat and they both welcome its warmth. There are many people with them but it's not overly crowded; there are many piers and ferries over the course of the river so he guesses it must be hard to fill all of them the entire day. There are kids talking loudly and there's a voice over that tells them which spots to look at from either side of the Thames.

"Even I did this when I came here," Donna says from his side. He took the window seat at her insistence, and even took out his phone to snap a few pictures. "_And_ I was a broke college student."

"We should do this more often," he shakes his head. "You realize we've barely spoken of work since we saw each other at the airport?"

"Yeah," her voice is contemplative. "Things are different there. Without Mike and Rachel."

"Yeah," he nods. Anyone else, he wouldn't venture into that territory. With Donna, it's just… easy. "Do you ever think…"

He stops himself from saying any further. It's a moot point anyway — this is Donna. She gets him.

"What?" Her voice as soft as she asks.

"Doing what they did, leaving New York behind," Harvey continues, looking at her straight in the eye. "Do you ever think of doing that?"

She tilts her head. "I did in the past," she admits. "I used to think New York could be my waiting room, when I was an actress. Before I took over the world," she shakes her head. Harvey lets out a chuckle. "Hey, don't judge me. I was young and naive and full of dreams."

"I'm not judging. I was all of that once too."

"Full of goals, not dreams," she corrects him. "I love the city, it's my home. But home isn't a place, you know?"

Harvey sighs. "I know."

"Who knows the future? Maybe I'll have to leave if I decide to become president or something," Donna jokes. "DC isn't bad."

He smiles. "Not bad at all."

"One thing is for sure," she continues, "you'd think with the money we have we'd take better vacations than a few days between Christmas and New Year."

"There's still time to change that," he lets out a deep breath. "I mean, you came here, after all."

Donna purses her lips. "That I did."

The kid in front of them is snapping pictures left and right on a Polaroid and looks behind her straight at them. Donna smiles at her and the little girl flashes her a toothy smile before turning shyly ahead again. Harvey personally thinks a Polaroid would be a waste in such a young child's hands, but then again what does he know about kids or cameras?

Instead of paying any attention to that, he braces himself for his next question.

"You gonna meet with Thomas later?"

He doesn't _want_ to know. But he needs to, because she left a plane alone and she's sitting close to him on a fucking boat on their way to Tower Bridge.

"Oh, no," Donna says, pointedly looking out the window. "It didn't work out between us."

There's a pause. He nods and chooses not to say anything. Their eyes meet and there's a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He forgets to breathe for a moment.

"We were supposed to go to Italy, actually," she continues. "I changed plans. Figured I could enjoy some theater before going back to work."

"Did he hurt you?" He finds himself asking.

Donna shakes her head. There's a sad smile on her face. "No, I hurt him. It had to be done, though."

He asks nothing else. He's hurt enough women to know some feelings are better left behind.

"Why did you come to London, Harvey?" She asks.

Harvey looks down. "Zoe. She always sends me Christmas cards," he shrugs, and opts not to look at Donna as he says so. "She said I should visit. I got here yesterday, actually. I thought that maybe there could be something for me here. Turns out there isn't."

"Did you meet her and she had a big ring on her left hand?" Donna jokingly asks, trying to relieve the mood.

Harvey laughs. "Nah. We had dinner, it was okay. I just looked at her and felt nothing. I wonder if I ever felt anything for her, for real."

Donna nods, and Harvey turns his attention outside the boat. After a few moments, there's a hum coming from the back of her throat — as if she's been thinking out loud. It sounds mocking to him.

He narrows his eyes.

"What is it?"

Donna makes a face. "Really, Harvey? Zoe?" She shakes her head. "You had more chemistry with Nadia from the DA's office than her."

"Nadia?" He repeats, trying to remember. "Oh, right, Nadia."

She arches her eyebrows. "My point exactly."

He meets her eye again. She grins. So does he.

He feels lighter all of a sudden.

They spend the rest of the time in silence, mostly — talking about the surroundings, Donna mentioning things she's seen and things she wants to see. She's never been to London Eye and she'll wait a few days to visit. She wants to go to Westminster Abbey too, and maybe to Notting Hill. She doesn't have much planned, she tells him — she just wants some time off, hopefully stress-free. He gets it.

He finds himself wishing he could go to London Eye with her, even to the church, even to a West End play. It's a weird realization that comes fast, but doesn't hit him as hard as it would once upon a time. He's had months of this — months of dealing with the way he feels about Donna and how she's out of reach.

With her sitting here next to him, however, it doesn't make her feel out of reach at all.

The ferry's next stop is the London Bridge City Pier, which happens to be their spot. Donna stands up first, and he follows; she lets the family that had been sitting in front of them go on ahead but the dad stops as mom and child walk slightly ahead.

"Here, she took this and printed it," the man says, a little embarrassed. "You've got your very own paparazzi for the trip, apparently. Sorry about that."

He hands Donna the polaroid; Harvey takes a quick look at it and arches his eyebrows. The kid managed to get a moment where they're both looking at each other — both wearing tentative expressions on their faces. He supposes to an outsider it must seem like they don't care about whatever else is happening outside of their own little world.

He feels like that with Donna sometimes.

"She's got talent," Harvey comments. "Thanks."

"She might have, I'm not sure," the dad laughs. "Happy New Year's Eve, folks."

"Happy New Year's Eve," Harvey replies, smiling softly as he sees the little girl jumping up ahead with her mom.

Donna is still staring at the picture.

"We should go," he tells her quietly. She looks back at him in surprise. "It's our stop. You want me to keep that?"

"Yeah, sure," she hums, handing him the picture and moving to the corridor to leave the ferry.

The cold hits them, and hits them hard; it's a little more windy, probably because of the river, and Harvey buttons his coat once. Donna herself is busy trying to handle her scarf over the wind, but it seems like a losing battle to do so on the pier. Once they reach the pavement, she's able to handle it — the tip of her nose is a little red from the cold, and so are her cheeks. He realizes they've never spent much time outside — it's either the office, events, restaurants. They've never actually spent long in each other's company like this, without work between them.

It's funny to see her like this though — disconcerted by her lack of poise, he assumes, because she's still struggling against the wind. Impulsively, he steps closer and helps her with the scarf, going as far as untucking her hair from between the garment and her neck. The blush on her nose seems to have spread to her cheeks too.

"Thank you," Donna says.

"You're welcome," Harvey replies, settling his now gloved hand on her scarf, his thumb touching her jaw softly.

There's a pause. Eyes meet again. He doesn't know what they're doing, not anymore. He has a plane to catch in a few hours and she's alone in this town for the next five days and they've known each other for almost fifteen years and they're two of New York's powerful people in their own way.

He's afraid, he's not gonna lie. For months he's understood that what he has with Donna is exceptional — in a way he's always understood it, but he could never access it. For weeks he's seen her with another guy and tries to put this behind his head, wondering if that's how she felt all these years while he was sleeping around or chasing the wrong women.

Women he had always known had been wrong from him, deep inside.

He takes the coward way out this time. He blinks and looks away, breaking her unwavering glance. He remembers her lips against his not that long ago, remember how soft they were and that he responded to her touch and he remembers —

_I didn't feel anything when I kissed you, Harvey._

_It won't happen again._

There is that, too. Whether she said it to make him feel better or under his own pressure — he's not proud of it — the words have been said and he can't forget them.

"So… why are we here?" He asks.

It takes her a moment to reply — he chances a glance back at her. There's a slight disappointment on her face. It goes away after a second, but he's seen it.

"Tower Bridge, of course," Donna says, pointing to the famous bridge ahead of them. It's gonna be another walk, but he doesn't mind as long as she's warm. "Unless you want to go to the Shard. Maybe that's more of your thing. It wasn't here when I visited."

He checks the skyscraper not too far from them and shakes his head. "Nah, we see enough of those back home."

Donna snickers, and they start strolling towards the bridge. "We really, really do."

"You think the firm is surviving without us?" he smirks in her direction.

Donna lets out a laugh. "Without you? Sure. Without me? Nope."

"The modesty is high with this one," he comments.

"Are you quoting Star Wars with me? Really?" She's still laughing. "Spock would disown you."

"I can like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time," he defends himself.

She shakes her head. "I forget how nerdy you are sometimes."

"Hey, you like both those things too," he defends himself.

"You know me, I like to be on top of all things," Donna says matter-of-factly. He can't help but grin. She smacks his shoulder softly. "Shut up."

"I wasn't saying anything," he says. "You're right, though. You were born to be COO. I don't think I've ever told you that."

Her eyes soften. "You haven't. Thank you."

Hazel bore into brown and he can easily get lost in the colors of her eyes. He clears his throat.

"So, Tower Bridge. Is there a bathroom break on your schedule or anything like that?"

His teasing makes her roll her eyes. "Tower Bridge, then fish and chips. And then… Oh, I have an idea."

She stops walking and takes off one glove and hands it to him while taking her phone from her pocket. Harvey is bewildered as she sees her taking action in… whatever else it is. It's hard to stop her when she wants something.

"Does that idea involve a bathroom break?" Harvey asks.

"As a matter of fact, it does," she replies, not looking at him. He steps closer, trying to see what she's up to. "No peeking, it's a surprise."

He makes a face, but tries nothing else. They spend a few minutes like this, standing together by the river. The sun at some point shows up from behind a few clouds. It's a welcoming warmth.

"All done," Donna announces after a moment. "Let's go."

Her arm goes around his for the second time that day.

It feels like they belong there, anyway — together.

* * *

They take pictures of each other on Tower Bridge, at Donna's insistence. It's an important place, she says, and so he accepts it. She also takes a selfie to send to Louis — who had called her a few minutes before they got there, and apparently he was surprised they had found each other in London.

He can't help but put his arm around her waist as she puts hers over his shoulders so they can take the picture for their friend. They're both smiling, cheeks blushing (from the cold), her hair is a little wild and his has had better days, but the angle is good and she somehow captures the tower behind them. He doesn't think they've ever taken a picture like this, not in recent years. He asks her to send it to him.

"Louis first," she tells him. "He's gonna be so jealous. Next year he'll be begging for a joined holiday with him, Sheila and the baby."

"You know we're gonna be the godparents, right?" Harvey asks her. "We'll probably have some obligations Louis will make up."

"I know I'm the godmother, I don't know about you," she retorts, then laughs when he turns serious. "You're the godfather, come on. Louis worships and loves you. And hates you sometimes, but that's love, I suppose."

Love isn't a concept he's willing to talk about with Donna — not now, anyway. All of their talks involving that word ended up badly in one way or another.

And so they cross the river and turn left towards Tower of London; Donna claims there's a stand of fish and chips there that are worth it and he follows. It's strange how normal this all seems — to be playing tourists on another continent. Without the work talk, he feels like they're different people from the ones in New York. It makes him think of strolling through the streets of their own city with her. Sitting on a park with her and sharing anything that isn't work talk.

Today it's fish and chips and the view leads to an ice rink beside the tower. They joke about some people in it and laugh when someone falls and gets up quickly. She's eating her fish and her eyes twinkle because he knows he's staring, and this time he doesn't break her gaze. She swallows and there's a different kind of blush on her cheeks.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we should get a hot dog when we get home," Harvey answers before shoving some chips in his mouth.

"A hot dog?" Donna repeats, bewildered.

"In Central Park," he offers, though his mouth is still full.

"God, I can see all your future stomach content from here," Donna mocks him, laughter bubbling in her chest. "Yeah, we should do that."

He swallows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, sure. But you're paying, and it better be a good hot dog," she says, and those are all points he can take.

They proclaim themselves full and he's surprised to note that it's almost five already — from brunch, it seems like the entire day has flashed by. He woke up this morning in a hurry to leave and now…

Now he's dreading his flight and he still has a few hours left.

"Come on, we gotta hurry now," Donna says, reaching for his hand.

Harvey frowns. "I thought we didn't have anything scheduled on purpose?"

"I scheduled something before we crossed the river. You're gonna love it, don't worry," she says, but he doesn't trust her when she has that mocking tone in her voice. He knows her for too long to buy it.

Which is exactly how he finds himself, half an hour later, sans his coat, putting on ice skates, the knowledge that he doesn't know how to ice skate in front of his mind the entire time. He groaned about it, Donna ignored him, and she seemed so giddy and excited he just went along with it. They've never had a day quite like today, and he doesn't want to spoil it by ruining something for her.

Even if he'll most likely fall and break a limb and make a fool of himself in the process.

They have forty-five minutes on the rink, which seems like too much time altogether, and maybe a waste of time in itself when they've got limited hours left together in the day. He pretends to be cool about it, and he lets her enter the rink first, and—

He shouldn't be surprised Donna looks like a pro.

She slides off instantly, her feet barely moving, and he's convinced she must skate in New York during winter. He's sure he'll find her around Rockefeller Center at some point. He, on the other hand, grips the rail and doesn't let go. At least the kids who can't skate have some guiding stands that look like penguins they can hold onto to skate — he doesn't have that. Not that his ego would have let him.

Donna's laughing, though. "You can't skate."

"You obviously _can_," he retorts, a little annoyed.

"Give me your hands," she offers.

He's a little reluctant, but gives in after a moment. Maybe he should have gotten a helmet for this. No one is wearing one, though.

Donna is still trying not to laugh at him, but he appreciates the gesture. She slides backwards — how can she even do that? — while holding both his hands, and giving him a few tips on how to proceed. He's amazed that she makes it look so simple and easy. It's definitely not within his range of abilities.

"There you go," she says, letting go of his hands. He makes a face. "I'm just gonna go to your side, don't worry."

Her left hand grabs his right one. They're still skating close to the edge, and for that he's grateful, but he still doesn't trust anything about this.

"I won't let go," she promises, squeezing his hand. "Don't tell me you've never skated before."

He rolls his eyes, their stroll slower than ever as he tries to keep his balance. "Alright, I won't tell you," she lets out a laugh and he can't help but smile at the sound. "How are you so good at it anyway?"

"I played hockey at school," Donna reveals. He doesn't hide his surprise. "What? I can be very aggressive."

"I'm just thinking I never knew that about you, in fourteen years," Harvey replies.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she says, winking at him.

"Are there pictures of this?" He asks. "I have to see them."

"My mom must have tons of them," she tells him.

"How do you go from that to theater?" He frowns.

Donna sighs. "How do you go from theater to law?" she gives him a smile, then shrugs. "Life happens."

He nods.

"Do you regret it?"

Whether he's talking about theater or hockey or law, it doesn't matter. They both get it.

"I don't, actually," Donna answers. "I like where I am right now."

Harvey gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "I like where you are right now. And don't let go."

He jokes because he's still struggling, but she's serious when she looks at him.

"I won't ever let go, don't worry."

He doesn't doubt it.

He feels a little more confident on ice after a few minutes and attempts to skate a little faster. Hell, kids are faster than him on this thing. Donna keeps up easily, hair swaying behind her as she moves effortlessly and gracefully. He should take her to his gym when they go back — he's convinced she must be as graceful in boxe as she is in anything else. Her hand tugs at his a little and he's so distracted by her that…

Before he knows it he's falling on his butt right there.

"Are you okay?" Donna asks in concern, but one nod from him is enough to make her laugh. "Let's go back to slow."

She offers him both hands again so he can stand up (with some difficulty). The song from the speakers change. He instantly searches for her eyes.

"Told you it was a classic," she points out, slowly skating backwards and guiding him like she did when they first got here.

He thinks it's safe to say slow ice skating with Donna to the sound of Madonna's _Crazy For You_ beats any slow dance he might have had.

They're not strangers, it's barely daylight, and they're swaying on an ice rink and not a dancefloor, but he thinks it still fits somehow. Maybe it's the melody. Maybe it's her.

It's probably her.

"You know, I actually love this song," she comments after a moment.

"I know," he answers, because he does know that. "It's your go to karaoke song."

"My go to karaoke song is _Hit Me With Your Best Shot_," Donna retorts.

"No, you like this one better," Harvey stands his ground. They share a smile and she nods because they both know he's right.

For the remainder of the song, he manages not to fall on his butt and she doesn't let either of his hands go.

In his mind, he considers this a good first experience on ice.

Their time is coming to an end, though, and he might have thought that forty-five minutes on ice were forty minutes too long, but it passed by too quickly. He's still so mesmerized by the ease with which she helps him through it all, and he doesn't miss the tentative glances his way and he's so goddamn confused because she just broke up with someone and she told him she didn't feel anything but they danced together at Mike and Rachel's wedding and they flirted and they shared drinks at the office and…

When she looks at him like that, he forgets himself and everyone else. There's only her.

As they exit the Tower of London and she mentions the hour — he's gonna need to go to the airport soon enough — they decide to make their way back to the hotel. It's funny because he hasn't been on the New York subway in ages, and Donna convinces him to use the Underground here. It's just faster, according to her, and he can tell traffic is bad enough and time is not on their side.

He lets her guide through the station and it's rush hour and the last day of the year — there aren't any seats available so they stand together — a little closer than necessary. She tells him which station they're supposed to get and he barely pays attention to her words when she's standing this close and her hair looks wild and beautiful and her eyes twinkle differently since before the ice rink.

The ride to the next station is quick — more people get in, few people get out. He steps a little closer to Donna, just to make sure no one is in her personal space. She moistens her lips with her tongue and he's transfixed by it. The train starts moving again, and she's distracted too because she loses her balance for just a second and he grabs her arm.

"What happened to all that ice balance we saw not long ago?" He asks her teasingly.

"I think I left it there," she replies, her hand holding his arm in place.

Harvey smiles. "I got you."

It's a weird form of an embrace, he supposes, but he doesn't mind it when she steps closer and presses her head against his shoulder. Her scent reaches his nostrils and he wonders what the hell they're doing — he sure doesn't know. The train stops three more times without them leaving, and he just knows he's transfixed by her red hair and her cold nose against his neck and his heart beats fast in a way that has nothing to do with his health.

_The next station is Temple. Exit for Somerset House. Mind the gap between the train and the platform._

The voiceover from the train rouses her from her position in his arms and the spell is broken.

"That's our stop," she tells him.

He keeps holding her hand as they exit the train — they still hold hands as they walk up the stairs to exit Temple Station and he follows her outside because he definitely doesn't know the way even though he got here a day early. It's darker now, and the weather has definitely turned worse. She lets go of his hand as they cross the street. The hotel is close by, she explains — just a few minutes walk.

The reality checks in. So does the distance between them.

The streets aren't as crowded anymore, and people keep to themselves. It's all small talk between the two of them and it's the rather awkward kind that makes him cringe inside.

"Why did you break up with Thomas?" He finds himself asking.

To her credit, Donna doesn't even falter her step, merely giving him a glance, hands safely in her pockets.

"I didn't love him," she replies simply. "I don't think I ever could. I didn't think it was fair to him to keep seeing him when I couldn't reciprocate his feelings."

Harvey nods. There's a pause, and then she speaks again.

"Why did you come here, Harvey?"

The softness in her voice is enough to make him look at her. There's some pain in her eyes, and he doesn't really get it because he has yet to say anything. He guesses sometimes nothing is enough of a disappointment.

"I knew you were going away with him," he reveals. "I guess I was trying to forget about that."

She nods too, but tores her gaze away from his. They keep walking. When he looks at her again he sees a few snowflakes on her hair. He realizes there are some on his coat too.

They look way better on her, though.

"Guess I ruined that when you saw me at the airport," she jokes.

Harvey shakes his head. "You didn't ruin anything."

It's a short walk indeed, because they reach the hotel soon after that. At this hour, for the holiday, it's bustling with activity. Donna purses her lips and looks uncertainly at him before going to the front desk; he lingers behind, a little unsure of what to do. A quick look at his phone tells him his plane leaves in an hour.

The lobby is filled with marble and antique furniture and he can see how well Donna fits here. She's classical in her own way — even in low heel boots, he thinks. He can't help but smile as he watches her from afar, hands in pockets, unsure of what's gonna happen, or maybe afraid of what's gonna happen. He's not sure.

It doesn't take long for Donna to return with two card keys in hand.

"The luggage is already in the room," she tells him. "So you're gonna have to come up to get your bag."

He nods weakly and follows her as a bell boy guides them to the elevators.

They enter and stand apart now, and it doesn't feel like fifteen minutes ago they had been embracing on the train. His mouth feels dry when the elevator dings and signals they should leave — he follows her through carpeted halls until they find her room and he finds it funny that she got suite 206, the same as her apartment.

He doesn't get in when she opens the door, though. He keeps it open as she puts the card in order to turn on the lights and leaves to get his bag. It's only when she's halfway down the corridor that she notices he's not following.

"Won't you come in?"

There's a frown on her face and a slight tremble in her voice.

Harvey shakes his head. "If I come in, I'm gonna miss that plane."

Donna simply nods and disappears into her suite.

He lets out a deep breath. They've always been able to get each other without saying much, but today it's killing him.

Not just today, he thinks. It's been going on for a while. The unsaid words hanging over his head every time he watches her go.

She comes back a few seconds later, sans her coat and scarf and with his bag in tow.

"Have a good flight," she says, though her tone is detached.

He takes the bag from her.

"Thanks. Have a good holiday, Donna," he says honestly.

She leans against the door and nods. Her eyes don't meet his.

He turns to leave.

* * *

He's halfway down the hall when the door clicks shut and he closes his eyes.

Again. Unsaid words hanging over him, over them. His flight leaves in an hour and he can't stop thinking about Donna inside that room. He can't stop thinking about the snowflakes on her hair as they walked back to the hotel. He can't stop thinking about her guiding him on that damn ice rink and he can't stop thinking about her sitting close to him on that boat.

He presses the button for the elevator.

He can't stop thinking about them walking side by side at work and about her teasing him in his office and the way her skirt rides higher when she sits on his desk like she owns it. He can't stop thinking about taking strolls with her back home and doing grocery shopping and he can't stop thinking about her scent and her hair over his pillow and —

The elevator dings and opens its door.

Harvey doesn't go in.

He stands there for a while. Long enough for the elevator doors to close again. He doesn't reach for the button again.

He turns around.

His bag trails behind him as he walks through the corridor and when he reaches the same door he just left seconds ago his hand doesn't waver before he knocks once, twice, and then twice more.

The door opens after what seems like forever, and he sees Donna, in her white sweater and her skinny pants and the — well, she's taken the boots off. She's frowning and the skin around her eyes is a little red and her hair is a little damp from the little snow they got before arriving here.

"You said you didn't feel anything that night," he tells her, and he feels a little out of breath for absolutely no reason at all.

Donna nods. There's a moment. Her eyes meet his and he doesn't look away. Neither does she.

"I lied," she says, simple as that.

A long breath leaves his lungs. He's speechless.

"You said it didn't mean anything," she continues.

"I lied," he nods as well. "I lied because anything with you means everything. And I couldn't face that."

She bites her lower lip. He's still breathing hard.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"Can you face it now?" Donna retorts.

"Yeah," Harvey answers. "_Yes_."

A soft smile forms on Donna's face. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. He hopes those aren't sad ones. "You're gonna miss that plane."

But she steps away slowly and he steps in. He puts his bag next to the door as he enters the suite and he's the one who closes the door shut behind her.

"I'm gonna miss that plane."

In one quick step he's in front of her, or perhaps she meets him in the middle, because then he's kissing her and she's kissing him and it's everything he's ever wanted and everything that's ever scared him at once.

But damn, he can't stop.

He loses his coat right there in front of the door and backs her up against the wall — he wants, _needs _to feel her, and nothing seems to be enough. His lips trail a map on her skin — her lips, her jaw, her neck. He's soft and hard at the same time, he wants to go slow and he wants fast too. Her hands grip his shoulder and she lets out a groan when his own hands reach for the hem of her sweater. Together they manage to take it off, and she pulls him by his loose scarf to come closer again. He catches her smile in a kiss again, and feels the scarf falling too; he's disappointed she's wearing another blouse underneath but that doesn't stop him from running his palms down her torso then settling on her breasts.

It's been thirteen years and it feels like yesterday and a hundred years ago at the same time.

A groan leaves her lips and he looks up — worry and uncertainty in his eyes because maybe this is too fast, maybe this is too much? — but before he can voice any of these questions she's tugging at his sleeves.

"Take it off," she whispers, low and seductive and impatient, and he's only too happy to oblige.

He takes off his sweater and the undershirt with it and her palms tremble slightly as she rests them on his bare chest. He's not the only one breathing hard — her eyes are dark as she takes him in and hell, he's just kissed her and he wants to do it forever.

She takes her hands away from him to take off her own shirt, and he doesn't have much self control because his hands are at her waist bringing her closer before her shirt can hit the floor. He presses kisses on her collarbone, one of his hands moving to squeeze a breast over her bra and her hands are at his hair, tugging and running over his head.

She's intoxicating. She always was, but now he knows he can never go back.

And he doesn't want to.

Her hands settle on his jaw and bring his face to hers — they kiss once, twice, they change sides and experiment and get used to one another and he gets lost in her taste, in the way her tongue moves against his and how _Donna_ she is, even during this.

"Let's go to bed," she suggests, her voice a whisper against him.

He nods a little weakly and pulls away, only enough that she can walk in front of him. His arm snakes from behind her, her back to his chest, and he presses a kiss on her hair as she walks slowly into the suite. They pass by a sitting room that he pays no attention to and then they reach the bedroom. She stops a little suddenly, as if unsure of how to continue, and he turns her around.

Her eyes meet his. He tugs her closer, hands settling low on her back. She runs her palms over his chest.

"This is really happening, huh?" Donna says, a slow smile making its way to her face.

"Yeah," he can't resist kissing her; she responds immediately, even if the kiss is fast. "Yeah, it is."

It seems to be the only confirmation she needs, because she's back in the game fast and hard. He gets lost in the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin and he groans when her nails scrape over his back. He pulls her closer, as close as possible, and he's hard between her bodies and she's moaning when his hand finds its way under her bra.

It's too much and not enough at the same time.

She reaches for his belt and unzips his pants, causing them to fall to his ankles. He manages to unclip her bra and she moves her arms to take it off. He palms a breast, takes in the amount of tantalizing milky skin in front of him, and thinks that he may not have seen her like this for nearly thirteen years but he _remembers _and damn, of course she only got better.

He feels her hand down his own torso and then slipping inside his briefs. He moves his hand to her other breast and leans down to capture a nipple in his mouth. He hisses when he feels her palm against his already straining cock. The cold air of his breath against her moist skin makes her shudder.

She moves up and down, and he's frustrated he can't move with his pants around his ankles and that her skinny pants are much more difficult to remove than his.

"Bed," he mutters, managing to guide her forward.

She gets the message. He watches as she pulls away and removes her pants with ease, while he ends up making a fool of himself by stumbling while taking off his own pants and shoes. Donna laughs, though, and sits on the bed with her legs slightly open, wearing only a pair of black cotton panties.

And fuck him, he's never seen someone look so sexy in cotton panties.

He takes off his briefs too, feels her eyes on him as he walks towards the bed. He leans down to her and manages to lie on top of her, hissing when her hand finds his cock again and moves, up and down, squeezing just right. It's been thirteen years and she still knows all his buttons.

He doesn't let her, though; he's too intoxicated by her to let it just end so soon. He grasps her hand away and moves down her neck, to the valley between her breasts. He sucks and scrapes his teeth over a nipple and moves slowly, lower and lower, until his lips are met with cotton.

Harvey grins up at her.

Donna rolls her eyes a little. "You're the worst."

"No, I'm the best," he corrects and she chuckles, a low and sexy sound, and he sits on his knees and pulling the fabric down her legs with her help.

She's bare and open for him and he's pretty sure he could come just by looking at her.

He can do more than that, though.

So he kisses her thighs gently, parting her legs further. He feels her muscles tense as he moves closer to her center. He breathes in her scent and presses a hand on her breast, massaging softly, then marks his tongue against the apex of her thighs and slides it over her, softly at first, so gently that a sigh escapes her. He pulls away a few inches to admire her then licks her, from her center upwards. She shudders. He sucks one of her outer lips into his mouth.

"I forgot how good you tasted," he mumbles against her before tasting her again. She's wet and pliable under him, and he feels himself get even harder.

"No, you didn't," Donna breathes. He moved upwards again, sucking at her clit gently then letting go. He heard her feet shuffling against the sheets. "I forgot how good you were at this."

Harvey smirks. "No, you didn't."

She chuckles and he decides there's enough conversation for now.

He kisses and sucks and fucks her with his tongue and his fingers until her hand is nudging his head closer and closer to where he wants him; he places kisses all over her and settles his mouth down her mound, right over her clit, and sucks once, twice; she trashes a little under him and he rests a hand on her navel so he'll keep her in place. His mouth covers her and he keeps two fingers inside her while he moves his tongue around the bundle of nerves and then —

Her legs are trembling and she's gasping and she's trying to keep him from continuing, but he's stronger and he's focused and he thinks he could do this all day. Suddenly she's thrashing and moaning and he feels the moisture around his fingers and the clench of her walls. She's trying to push his head away and this time he lets her, though not before pressing a few open mouthed kisses against her thighs.

He settles above her and between her legs and captures her mouth in a kiss and all he can think is her, Donna, Donna, Donna. She surrounds him physically and mentally and emotionally and he just wants to get closer, so damn closer. His hands run down her sides and pull her legs a little. She's breathing hard, her eyes a little glazed from her own release, her hair a waterfall of red behind her head over the white linens.

He thrusts his hips forward a little, just enough to feel the friction. His cock brushes against her opening, and a groan escapes both of them at the same time.

"I want you," Donna breathes, her voice a mixture of a whimper and an order.

He groans again when he feels her hand around his cock. She moves her fist up and down and he rests his forehead on her shoulder, taking a deep breath. They're gonna have time for more foreplay later. Now is not that time.

He brings his hand over hers and she gets the message because she pulls away and he feels her palm on his side. He looks down between them, positions himself, then looks at her. She trembles when he brushes against her clit and her other hand grips at his shoulder as he pushes in.

Brown eyes meet hazel ones. He can see her breath catching at her throat as he slides in, slowly, completely, until he's buried inside her. He feels her calves against his back as she adjusts and he slides just a little deeper. She's tight and warm around him and he can't believe he's lived so many years without her like this.

They kiss. It's slow and messy. They share a look. He starts moving.

And there's only her. Her, her, her.

Their breaths mingle and he doesn't know where he ends and she begins; at first it's slow and tentative, like they're getting used to each other, like they're trying to find their own rhythm. It's not surprising that it doesn't take long for them to find it. It's _Donna_. What they had was always more than… what it was.

He's mesmerized by everything about her. It's funny because when he remembers their first time, so many years ago, he remembers physical things. The freckles on her back, the tiny scar on her collarbone, the one he kissed before and saw almost daily for so many years. He remembers her breasts and how she felt but he doesn't remember what he was feeling then. He knows he loved her then; he just thinks he somehow buried it down.

It's not buried this time around.

He thrusts a little harder and she gasps. One of his hands settles on her jaw, his thumb brushes against her lips. She opens her mouth and sucks the tip of his thumb.

"Fuck," he whispers. "_Donna_."

He looks down, forehead on her shoulder, and watches their bodies moving together and the sight is almost enough to make him cum right then and there. He groans instead, and pulls away slightly, his hand resting between her breasts for leverage. He almost pulls out from her, and then thrusts again with more force.

An involuntary whimper escapes her lips.

He thrusts again, same force, new tempo. Again, and again. Faster.

Her whimpers get more frequent.

He shifts again, this time pulling away to support himself on his knees, never parting from her. His hands move to her waist and he doesn't think he'll ever forget the sight of her like this, naked and open and beautiful, so goddamn beautiful, with his cock inside her. So he holds her firmly and thrusts. Fast and hard.

He feels her walls tighten a little around him, and he doesn't think he'll last long if she keeps doing this. One of his hands move from her waist, down her bellybutton, and settles on her mound, his thumb brushing against her clit once, twice, three times.

It's enough to make her cry out, but not quite get there. Her eyes search his and she grabs his hand — their fingers lace together so naturally it amazes him, and he lets himself fall on top of her again, his thumb still moving between them. He's crushing her but she seems to want him closer, her free hand tightening its hold on the muscles of his back. She breathes hard against his ear as nuzzles her neck and sucks at the skin and his hips' movements are becoming more erratic because fuck, she feels so good.

Her legs tremble and she lets out a cry and he feels her clench around him, feels her heavy breathing on his neck and her nails digging deep into his back. It's too much for him to handle, and he groans too, because it's all her, she's all around him, her taste is in his mouth and her scent is in his nostrils and his cock is inside her and he feels his own muscles tense against her own and he lets go. There's a tightening inside him and then it breaks, and he instinctively buried himself even deeper around her.

She turns her head and gives his lips a kiss but he can barely respond when their eyes meet and their breaths mingle and he feels the strong pulses and keeps thrusting as he releases into her. Her eyes are glazed and their fingers are locked together and he feels like they stay like this for minutes, riding this together, nose to nose, sweaty skin against sweaty skin.

In reality this all happens within seconds.

He remains inside her for a few moments, unwilling to shift. He tucks a few sweaty strands of her behind her ear and there's a moment that he feels completely at peace when she nudges his nose and gives his lips a peck. He replies with a peck of his own and soon they're kissing slowly, breathing each other in, what they just did a mere addition to what they're becoming.

"I never told you how I love you," he mutters against her lips.

Donna snickers, hands running freely through his hair. "I think you just showed me."

He shakes his head. "No. So many other ways. All the ways."

Her eyes trace his face and she's taking his words in. "You better show me all of these ways, then."

"Oh, I intend to," he assures her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

It's a promise he's sure he'll keep.

* * *

Harvey finds out after a shower and round 2 that her suite actually has a great view of the London Eye and the river. They have dinner in the sitting room, wearing only bathrobes, and he proclaims this is the best New Year's Eve he's ever had and there's a smile on her face when she agrees it's been a pretty good one.

They leave the curtains open but don't venture into the balcony because it's been snowing and they've been outside all day. When the clock hits midnight she's kissing him and straddling his thighs and she pulls away to look over at the fireworks.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she notes, standing from his lap and offering him her hand to follow over to the windows.

He settles behind her, breathing the scent of her newly dried hair, hands playing with the tie on her waist. The fireworks are pretty but he's transfixed by the sight of them on the window's glass.

"It is," he agrees, pressure his lips against her temple. "I like you better, though. Let's go back to the couch."

Donna shakes her head and turns away in his arms. "We need to honor tradition by kissing first."

That he's happy to oblige, grinning into her lips. She tries to make it a brief kiss, but he deepens ir and— well, she doesn't seem to be complaining.

"Happy New Year, Harvey," she whispers.

"Happy New Year, Donna," he replies.

She settles into his embrace, head resting on his shoulder, not unlike she did hours ago on the train. Everything seemed so uncertain then. Everything seems so damn right now.

"I forgot to tell you earlier," Donna says as they watch the fireworks.

"What?"

"I love you too."

A smile forms on his lips, one that reaches his eyes, forms crinkles on his skin and brings light to his irises. She pulls away and she's wearing the same smile he is and he knows no fireworks will ever beat this vision of her and the knowledge that he's the one who put that smile on her face.

He kisses her again. It's not really for tradition anymore. Or maybe tradition for them — many kisses a day from now on.

He's so damn glad they didn't have a spot for him in earlier flights. He's even happier he missed that plane. Looking at her like this, fireworks reflecting in her hazel eyes, that happy glow on her face, he's sure he got the best view he ever could for the midnight hour to see this year through.

He can't wait for all the other midnights they'll share together.


End file.
